I choose you
by TheWhiteCrayon
Summary: I think we always have a choice, even when we feel like we don't.
1. Chapter 1

**This is going to be my first multi-chapter Lie To Me story, it will (probably) have 5 chapters.** **The story is loosely inspired by the song "Poison And Wine" by Civil Wars, which I personally think perfectly describes the dynamics of Cal and Gillian's relationship.**

 **I'm very exited about writing this story and I hope you'll enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you thought.**

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She stares absentmindedly at the empty coffee cup in her hands. She's been holding onto it for nearly twenty minutes since she drank the last sip, trying to warm her hands on the once steaming cup.

She doesn't always feel so lonely, sitting home alone in her quiet living room. Sometimes she enjoys the peace and quiet, being able to do everything just so, without having to account for anything to anybody.

But other times she longs for the presence of a loved one, or rather a house full of them. She yearns to warm her hands in somebody elses, instead of seeking comfort in the fading warmth of a lifeless coffee cup.

Sometimes she can almost hear the sound of children laughing in the upstairs bedroom, of footsteps going up the stairs, a door creaking open and the warm voice of their father softly but sternly telling them to go to sleep.

Sometimes she can almost feel an arm around her shoulder and lips against her temple, and a tiny baby sleeping soundly in her arms.

When she opens up her eyes they're gone, and she misses them. She doesn't understand how you can miss people that were never there to begin with, but she does.

She's startled out of her dreary musings by the sound of the doorbell. She quickly puts her coffee cup on the table before getting up from the couch. She checks her watch as she walks to the door and briefly wonders who would be stopping by at ten thirty in the evening.

She guesses it might be an equally lonely Cal, looking for some company and a cheap drink. She doesn't really expect it to be anyone else, let alone the man that actually is waiting for her on the other side of the door.

She opens the door and stares straight into a pair of eyes she thought she'd never see again. "David," she whispers.

Before her stands the man who walked away from her, over two years ago. The man she once thought of as her home, her happy ending. The same man who later made her cry so many tears she thought she would surely dry out, who broke her heart so badly she can still feel the cracks some days.

"Gillian," he says. She can feel the tears starting to well up in her eyes at the sound of his voice, eventhough she doesn't want to cry, doesn't want to still feel emotions over this man.

She doesn't know what to say. She wants to ask him why he's here, and why he left in the first place. She wants to tell him to go away, but also to never leave ever again. She wants to tell him she's missed him, and she wants to tell him she doesn't need him.

She wants to say so many things, that in the end none of them come out of her mouth.

They stand there in her dooropening for what feels like a lifetime. "Please say something," he eventually whispers. She clears her throath and blinks the tears away.

"It's cold," she whispers. "You can come in if you want." She lets him in and he follows her into the living room.

"Why are you here?" she finally asks after they've both sat down on the couch. "I missed you, Gillian," he says. "I don't want to be without you anymore." His face is so close to hers she can feel his breath on her skin. "I came back for you."

"What do you want me to say?" she whispers. He brushes a stray of hair out of her face with his thumb before taking her hands in his own.

"I want you to give me another chance," he says. "Please."

"Why should I do that?" she asks, her voice cracking.

They're both silent for a long time. She looks down at their hands, fingers intertwined. She knows if she's going to turn him away, the first step has to be pulling her hands away. But she can't bring herself to do it.

"What do you need from me?" he asks. "How can I earn your trust back?"

"How can I know you're going to stick around this time?" she asks.

"I gave up my job, Gill," he says. "My cover, everything. I've got a new identity. I want to start a new life, a real life. And I want you to be in it."

She looks down at their hands again, remembering the empty, lukewarm coffeecup she'd been holding earlier that night.

"I love you Gillian," David says. "I'm so, so sorry I hurt you. And if you let me, I promise I'll try to make up for that for the rest of my life."

"It's late," she says. "Do you have a place to stay?" He shakes his head. "I came here straight from the airport," he says. "I have a new name, a backstory, some money. But nothing else," he tells her.

"You can sleep in the guestroom for tonight," she says. "I need… some time. I need to think."

"I understand," he says. "Thank you for not turning me away."

That night she lies awake in her bed for a long time. She thinks about all the wonderful memories she shares with David, about how good she felt when they were together. She thinks about how devastated she felt when he left.

She thinks about her slowly fading dreams of marriage and children, and remembers when David played the main part in those dreams.

She finally falls asleep after hours of wondering and pondering, painfully aware of the empty space next to her.

The next morning she tries to leave the house early enough not to run into David. It's seven a.m. and she's sitting in a dark kitchen, trying not to make any noise while drinking her coffee, when she hears footsteps coming down the stairs anyway.

He comes in barefeet, wearing last nights wrinkled and rumpled clothes. "Hey," he says. "Hey," she says. "Can I have some of that?" he asks, pointing at the coffee pot on the counter. She nods.

He pours himself a cup of coffee and sits down on the other end of the table. "What are you going to do now?" she asks. "I need a house," he says, "and a job. I'll go looking for an apartment today. And for now, check into a hotel."

"Good idea," she says. "I'm also going to try to get a job interview," he says. "I've got good references, or 'Jeffrey Kingston' does, anyway. So I guess it shouldn't be that hard."

"So that's your new name?" she asks. "Jeffrey Kingston?" He nods.

"Gill, I won't be here when you get home," he says, "you don't have to worry about that. But, do you think, maybe, I can take you out to dinner tonight? So we can talk?"

She shakes her head. "Don't spend your money on me right now," she says. "Just… come eat dinner here tonight. I won't cook, but we can order something."

"Okay," he says.

She puts her coffeecup in the dishwasher and grabs her bag from the table. "There's a spare key on the key rack by the front door," she says. "Please lock up when you leave. I'll get the key back tonight. See you around seven?"

He nods. "Yeah," he says. "See you then." She quickly leaves the house without looking back at the man she'll have to get used to calling Jeffrey now.

She arrives at the office not ten minutes later. It's another fourty minutes before they open, so she hopes to be the first one there. Of course, working with a certain workaholic named Cal Lightman, no such luck.

She tiptoes past his office without triggering a reaction, so she enters her own office thinking her workpartner and best friend of over a decade hasn't noticed her arrival. She sits down on her chair and puts her head in her hands. Her forehead is throbbing and when she closes her eyes she sees silver spots fluttering behind her eyelids.

She wants to think about everything again, about David, whose name is Jeffrey now, about their past and about her future, but her head hurts from all the thinking she's done in the last nine hours.

"Having a rough day, sweetheart?" She's suddenly jolted back to reality by the sound of a voice she knows all to well. She looks up to see Cal standing before her desk, looking down at her.

"God, you scared me!" she says. "How long have you been standing there?" He shrugs his shoulders. "I think since about two minutes after you very sneakily crept past my office," he says. "If you've got something to hide, please don't be so obvious about it."

Now it's her turn to shrug. "Nothing to hide," she says, shaking her head. "Okay then," Cal says, before leaving as quickly and quietly as he arrived.

The man has some nerve, calling _her_ sneaky.

Later that day she's trying her best to concentrate on the videos of some interviews she and Ria did yesterday. They're trying to figure out which of their cliënts employees is selling off confedential records to his competitors.

But every time she attempts to focus on the facial expressions and choice of words of their potential suspects, her thoughts somehow just drift back to last night.

Suddenly, Cal grabs the remote and hits the pause button. "Okay, let's take a short break," he says, slapping his hands together. "Torres, go get a cup of coffee."

The younger latina girl looks stunned at her boss. "You heard me, go on!" Cal says, pointing at the door. Ria lets out an irritated sigh before getting up and walking out the door.

Cal pulls his chair closer to hers and sits down on the edge of it, leaning so far forward that his knees touch hers. He puts his hands on her armrests and she tries not to think about the fact that his face is less than three inches away from hers.

"You don't want to tell me what's going on, that's fine," he says. "That's your choice. But don't lie to me. And don't act like whatever's going on doesn't affect your work. I've known who our thief is for almost twenty minutes, even Torres's almost figured it out."

She blushes and tries with might and main to push back the tears that are burning behind her eyes.

"If you want to talk about it, talk about it. If you don't want to talk about it, don't talk about it," he says. "But don't play pretend, Gill, not with me."

She looks up at his eyes and thinks about telling him. About David, about last night, about what he said to her, and about their date tonight. She thinks about maybe even telling him about how she feels, how she felt even before David came back.

"I don't want to talk about it," she whispers.

"Fine," Cal says, suddenly moving away from her, pushing his chair back and standing up. "Now you've said it." he says. "Do you want to go out for lunch or something? We can not talk about it somewhere else, and it's not like you're going to be very productive today, anyway."

She shakes her head. "No, thanks," she says. "I think I'll just go up to my office, try to get some work done there. You and Ria can finish this. Just tell her I had a headache, it's not exactly a lie, anyway."

Cal nods, looking down at the floor. Cal looking rejected always reminds her a bit of a kicked puppy, trying to look tough. She hates it.

"Sure," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "Just know that…" he shakes his head. "Never mind."

"Know what?" she asks against better judgement.

"Nothing," he says. "You bloody well already know that I'm always here for you, I don't have to tell you."

He stamps away and opens the door. "I'm going to go find Torres, she's had a long enough break already," he says before slamming the door shut behind him.

She lets out a deep sigh before getting up herself and walking out of the room. She walks through the hallways to her office, the sound of every step of her highheeled boots causing a dull pounding in her head.

She's done it now. She and Cal don't always tell each other everything, but they don't push each other away. They don't put up walls, or pretend to be different than they are.

She didn't mean to push him away now, but she knows if she went with him she'd end up telling him everything, and she's not sure she's ready for that.

Once in her office she immediately grabs a strip of advil out of the bottom drawer of her desk. She swallows two pills with a big gulp of water before sitting down on the couch against the back wall of her office.

Taking in a deep breath, she tries to think rationally. Two years ago, this man broke her heart. Back then, she would have done anything for him to come back for her, to hear him say that he loved her and never wanted to leave her ever again.

For so long she held on to the secret, irrational hope that he would show up at her doorstep again one day. She couldn't believe that she'd really never see him again.

And when he didn't come back, she cried and grieved over him. She missed him and worried about him and, eventually, she stopped waiting for him. And then one day she realised, she didn't miss him anymore. She didn't dream about him coming back anymore, didn't think she still felt much of anything about him anymore.

But now, two years too late, now he's suddenly shown up again. Now the dream she hasn't dreamt in such a long time is finally coming true, and she doesn't know if she still wants it to.

But it's a hard thing to completely stop loving somebody you once loved so fiercely. And now that he's back, saying all the things she needed to hear two years ago, it's even harder to seperate the love she felt for him in her memories from any love she may still feel for him today.

She kicks off her shoes, pulls her feet up on the couch and lies her head down on one of the pillows. She closes her eyes, trying to numb the annoying, throbbing pain in her head.

She doesn't know if she believes in predestination, but couldn't it be that some things are meant to happen a certain way? She thinks about the daydream David's arrival interrupted last night, about the family she so desperately wants to start with someone. What if David's supposed to give her all that?

What if no one else is ever going to?

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 **That was that, I hope you enjoyed! I will try to have the next chapter up as soon as possible, but between school and work everything is crazy busy right now, so I have no idea when I'll be able to. Until then, please leave me a review, it means a lot!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, here we have chapter two, at last. Parts of it, I'm still not sure of.. Parts of it, I really love.. So I hope you will all focus on the parts that I love, and I hope you'll love them, too.**

 **Also, I really want to thank everybody who reviewed chapter one, it really does mean so much to me.**

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She wakes up a little disoriënted, only to realise after mere seconds that she's lying on the couch in her office. She must have fallen asleep after taking the advil that afternoon. She sits up to see Cal sitting behind her desk, typing on his laptop.

"Have a good nap?" he asks without looking up from his screen. "What time is it?" she asks, rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Very nice to see you too, Foster," he says, still staring intently at his screen. "It's six thirty. All of our hardworking employees went home about an hour ago," he says with dripping sarcasm.

"Shit," she curses under her breath. "I have to go. Why didn't you wake me?" she asks.

Cal looks up from his laptop and shrugs. "Didn't know you were in a hurry. Didn't tell me anything," he says, the accusation lying thick on his words. "Besides, you looked like you needed your beautysleep," he says.

She grabs her shoes and starts to put them back on. "Thanks," she mutters in response. "Where you going?" Cal asks.

She looks up at him. "Home," she says. "I… I'm supposed to meet somebody there."

Cal raises his eyebrows. "Okay," he says, starting to type on his laptop again. She sighs. "Cal, I'm sorry I can't tell you. It's just that I don't even understand what's going on, so how could you?" she attempts to explain.

"I probably won't," he answers. "But I can still listen," he shrugs his shoulders, "be a bit helpful, maybe?"

"Thanks," she whispers. She does want to tell him, she just wants to make up her own mind, first.

"I promise I'll tell you," she says. "Just, not just yet."

"It's up to you, love," he says. She grabs her bag from her desk and heads towards the door. Just before leaving the room she changes her mind and turns around.

"Cal?" she asks. "Yeah love," he says, looking up from his screen. "Do you," she starts, "do you think some things are meant to be?" she asks.

Cal gets up from his chair and walks over to her. "I think," he says, "we always have a choice. I think the phrase 'meant to be' only exists because people like to pretend that they don't. That way, they don't have to feel responsable for the consequenses of their actions. Why do you ask?"

"You know what, I don't even know," she says, shaking her head. "I just wondered. So you don't believe two people can be meant to end up together?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Like I said," he says, "I think we always have a choice. Even when we feel like we don't."

"Yeah," she says. She grabs the door handle. "I'm gonna be late," she says, "I should go."

"Okay," he says. "Just, take care of yourself, and all that, okay?"

She smiles. "I will," she promises. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," he says. She closes the door behind her and walks away.

She arrives home at precisely five minutes before seven, but as she's getting out of her car she can see David already standing by the front door, holding a big paper bag of what appears to be some kind of take-out.

She quickly walks up to him, apologising for being late, eventhough she knows it's him who's early. "You know you really didn't have to bring the food," she says, pointing at the paper bag.

He smiles. "It's Indian," he says. "That still your favorite?" She can't fight a smile as a familair twinkle appears in his eyes. "Yeah," she says, opening the door and letting them in.

"Why don't you go into the livingroom, while I get us something to drink?" she offers while hanging up their coats. "Would you like a glass of wine?" she asks. "That would be great," David says, "thank you."

She goes to the kitchen and comes back just a few minutes later, holding a bottle of red wine and two glasses. David's already sitting on the couch and has taken several carton boxes of food out of the paper bag, putting them on the table.

"That looks good, Gill," he says, as she generously pours out wine into both glasses. She hands one to him before sitting down next to him on the couch and taking a big sip from her own glass.

"So," she says, after putting her glass down, "how was your day?" She feels ridiculous, talking to him like everything is normal, but she also doesn't really know what else to say.

David nods. "It was good," he says. "I found an apartment, nice, not too expensive. I can move in next week, so until then I'm staying at a hotel downtown. I also got a job interview for next week, as a psychologist at a mental health care institution."

"Well, congratulations!" she says. "I'm glad things are going well."

They sit together in awkward silence for a few minutes, neither one of them knowing exactly where to start a conversation with a person you haven't talked to for over two years.

"David, what's your plan?" she asks after a while. "I mean, are we just going to pick up where we left off two years ago? Pretend you never left? Are we gonna start all over again? What do you want?"

David carefully puts his hand on her knee. "I don't know," he says. "I guess we'll just figure things out as we go along. This," he grabs her hand and squeezes it, "us, it can be anything you want it to," he says.

He lets go of her hand again and wraps an arm around her shoulder. She gives into him and lies her head against his chest. It feels like old times, like the clock turned back over two years in time and David never left.

"If you hadn't left," she whispers, "where do you think we'd be right now?" she asks. She hears him sigh and feels his chest rise and fall. "I've thought about that so many times," he says.

"Maybe we'd be living together, maybe even talk about marriage and children," he says. "I don't know. I just hope we can still get there, someday."

She lies still against his chest and thinks about his words for a while. Cal may say everyone always has a choice, but you can't always choose the options you get. And if her only choice is between starting a family with a man who loves her, or staying alone for the rest of her life, that shouldn't be too hard of a decision to make, should it?

She moves so that she can look him in the eyes. "Okay," she says. "Okay what?" he asks. "Okay, I'll give you a second chance," she says.

A soft smile breaks through David's hardened facial features. He lays his hand on the side of her face and gently pulls it closer to his own. "I'll try to be worth it," he whispers before moving in to kiss her.

She goes to bed late that night, after David's gone back to his hotel. So tired she can barely keep her eyes open, she quickly falls off to a restless, stirring sleep.

She dreams she's stuck in a waterwell, screaming for help. She sees David's face above her, promising her he loves her and that he'll save her, but when he offers her his hand she can't reach it.

She keeps trying to grab his outstretched hand, but when she can't David disappears again and doesn't come back. She cries and begs for him to come back for her, but she doesn't see him again.

Then Cal's face appears in the opening above. She begs him to save her, but he doesn't. "We always have a choice," she hears him say the same words he said to her earlier that day. She cries out for his help again, but he just keeps repeating the same sentence, over and over again.

She's startled awake in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and with tearstreaks on her face. "Just a dream," she whispers to herself.

She thinks about the things Cal said about always having choices. She's not entirely convinced about the truth behind those words. You don't have a choice in who you fall in love with. You don't have a choice in who falls in love with you.

She didn't have a choice when David left her, and she didn't have a choice in whether or not he came back. She never had a choice in the way her marriage with Alec ended, or when her daughter was taken away from her.

So many things in her life have been decided for her, and so few of them have made her happy. Fate rarely asked for her opinion on anything.

She wonders if she really does love David, or if maybe she just remembers loving him. If she really is in love with him, or simply with the idea of loving anyone, and having them love her back.

She wonders if, in the end, it really matters. For how could being with someone who loves you, even if you weren't really in love with them, be any worse than staying behind all alone?

Cal was wrong. Life doesn't give you choices, it gives you options. And right now, David's her best option to be happy.

The next day she arrives at the office almost as early as the day before. She wants to have a chance to talk to Cal before the normal affairs of the day have any chance to interfere.

She knocks on the door to his office before going in. "Hey," she says. Cal's sitting behind his desk, typing away at his laptop again. He looks up from the screen, a hint of surprise appearing on his face. "Hey, darling," he says. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she says. "Can we talk? I'd like to tell you something."

She's been up half the night wondering how and when to tell him, eventually deciding to just do it. Fast and without second thoughts, like ripping of a bandaid.

"Of course," he says, the frown in his eyebrows showing worry. They sit down next to each other on the couch in his office. He's sitting so that he faces her, putting his arm on the backrest behind her.

"What is it love?" he asks. She turns her face to look at him and takes a deep breath before talking. "David came back," she says. Rip goes the bandaid, quick and painful. The frown in his forehead deepens, but he doesn't say anything.

"He came to my house, two nights ago," she says. "He's back for good." She feels a blush spreading over her neck and cheeks. "He wants a second chance, and I'm… I'm gonna give it to him," she says determindedly.

"What are you thinking?" Cal asks. His voice is soft, a mere whisper, but she can hear the accusation in it. She swallows and bites her lip before answering. "This is my decision," she says, her voice trembling a little.

Cal jumps up from the couch and paces his office. She pulls her legs up and wraps her arms around her knees, watching him walk back and forth. "Have you completely forgotten," he suddenly yells, "how much that man hurt you?"

He's standing before her with a fury in his eyes that she knows comes only from a desperate feeling of powerlessness.

"Have you forgotten how long it took you to get over him when he left you?" he screams. "Cause I haven't. I'll never forget what a bloody mess he left you! I don't…"

"Stop," she interrupts him. "I haven't forgotten," she says. "I want to give him another chance."

"O, that's nice," Cal blurts out, "another chance, to what, burn you down again? To finish you off? Gill, you can't do this," he says.

"Well, that's not your call," she says. "And I am doing this." She looks into his eyes and, to her surprise, reads pain behind the obvious anger and despair.

He stares straight back at her. "I see," he says, calmer now. "Nothing I can do to stop you then." He walks back to his desk and sits down on the chair behind it.

She get's up and walks back to the door. "Gillian," Cal says, right before she walks out. She stops, but doesn't turn around to face him. "Are you in love with him?" he asks.

She walks out the room and closes the door behind her.

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 **Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please do leave me a review, they really make me so happy. I hope to post chapter three soon, but no promises of when. I can, however, promise there will be a lot more Cal/Gillian in the next chapter, so there's that to look forward to.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here we have it: chapter three. I'm fairly happy with it, I hope you will enjoy. If you do, please do leave me a review, it really does inspire me to write.**

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She spends the rest of the week helping David -or Jeffrey, as she's taken to calling him- get settled into the city and avoiding Cal. It's not until almost a full week after their big fight that they even talk to each other again.

It's ten o'clock on a thuesdaymorning when he appears in her office, holding a big pile of papers. "Morning," he says. "Brought the files you asked for." He walks over to her desk and lies the papers down right in the middle of it.

"I asked Loker to bring me those," she says coolly. He looks down at his shoes. "Yeah, I know," he says. "Told him to bugger off. Look, I don't want to fight with you," he looks up at her, a smug smile on his face. "So why don't we just drop this, for now, okay?" he asks.

She sighs. "Fine," she says. And with those words they've made friends again. But it's only two days later that the 'dropping-it' agreement falls again.

After a morning of working outside of the office with Cal, they walk into the building together, only to see Jeffrey already waiting for her at the reception.

As soon as Cal sees him, his smile falls and his face hardens. "I.. we're going to lunch," she tells him. "See you in an hour?" she asks. Cal nods but doesn't say anything. Just then, Jeffrey walks over to them.

"Hey Gill," he says, reaching over to hug her and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Hey," she says, quickly detaching herself from him and grabbing his hand. "Shall we?" she asks. "Yeah," he says, but then turns around to face Cal.

"Cal, it's good to see you again," he says. "Yes, _Jeff_ , is it now?" Cal asks in a mock-friendly tone. "Let's go," Gillian says, pulling Jeffrey's hand and shooting Cal a warning look. "Just a sec, Foster," Cal says. "Old friends catching up."

He crosses his arms and looks Jeffrey up and down. "Listen, Jeff," he says sneering. "If you ever hurt her again, I promise you, this time I will kill you." He's smiling the words, which doesn't make them sound any less threatening.

"Cal!" she says angrily. Jeffrey tries to say something, but Cal interrupts him before he gets the chance. "No, don't say anything," he says. "Just wanted you to know that, understood?" He walks away, leaving both of them stunned.

When Jeffrey drops her off at the office again an hour later, she immediately heads for Cal's office, her high heels making a threatening, clicking sound as she walks through the hallways at a rapid speed.

"I will kill you?" she says as soon as she's burst through his door. "Really? That's your idea of 'dropping it'?" she asks. "Love," he starts, but she stops him. "No, don't do that, okay?" she says.

"Don't call me 'love'. Don't tell me you're not going to meddle anymore, in what is clearly _my_ decision, and then in the next moment start threatening my boyfriend!" she yells. "If you've got something to say, talk to me. Don't pretend that we're 'fine' and then pull this shit on me!"

"Look," he says, "I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't have done that. I was upset. I tried talking to you, but you won't listen to me!" he says. "Yeah, well that's because you kept yelling at me!" she says.

They're both quiet for a few seconds. "Okay, you're right," he says. "I'm sorry about that, too. Sorry for all of it." He gets up from his seat and walks over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Do you think," he asks, "maybe, we can have a conversation about this? Without yelling?" A smug grin appears on his face. She can't suppress a smile. "Yeah," she says. "Let's try that."

"Good," he says. "Wanna come over for dinner tonight? I'll even make my special spaghetti," he says, the grin on his face widening. "Okay," she says. "I'll be there."

She goes home with him after work and, true to his word, Cal does make a very tasty batch of spaghetti and meatballs. They eat toghether, laughing and talking, having a generally good time, feeling very nearly like their pre-Jeffrey days.

It's almost ten p.m. when they put away the last of the dishes, but still neither one of them has mentioned Jeffrey.

"Can I poor you a drink, love?" Cal asks, holding up a bottle of whisky. "Yeah, I'd love some," she says. He poors them two glasses and sits down next to her on the couch.

He empties his glass in one swig and sets it back on the table, before putting his arm around her shoulder. "Listen sweetheart," he says, turning his face to look at her. "I just want you to be happy, you know? And I think you deserve better than him."

"People change, Cal," she says. "He says he has, and I want to give him a chance to show me that." Cal shakes his head. "Don't care," he says. "You still deserve better than him."

She laughs scoffingly. "Who then?" she asks. "Did you have somebody better in mind? Even if I did agree with you that he's not good enough for me, which I don't, obviously, nobody else wants me." The words taste dry and bitter in her mouth and she immediately wishes she hadn't said them.

"I didn't mean it like that," she whispers, but the damage has already been done. Cal is looking at her with a worried frown deeply engraved inbetween his eyes. "Well you'd better not," he says, stroking her hair with his hand.

"Cause nothing you could say could be further from the truth, okay? You're amazing," he says. "And you can't settle for this man, simply because you're afraid, 'cause that's what it is Gill, you're afraid no one better will come along. They will, alright?"

"It's not like that," she says, trying to swallow back the heat she feels rising up in her throat. She grabs her drink from the table and takes a big sip of the alcoholic bevarage.

"O, it's not then?" Cal asks, a light sneer edging the tone of his voice. "Then give me an honest answer. Are you in love with him?" he asks.

"Cal, it's not that simple," she says, wrenching her hands together. "Question's very simple, love," Cal says, shrugging his shoulders. "Yes or no?"

She quickly swallows back the rest of her drink and holds up the empty glass. "Pour me another?" she asks. Cal fills up both their glasses before sitting back down beside her.

"So, you're not then," he says, putting his feet up on the table. "In love with him, that is."

"I told you," she says, taking a sip of her newly poured drink, "it's not that simple. There's a lot of history there, a lot of memories. It's… just complicated."

"Nothing complicated about it," Cal says, shrugging. "You either love the man, or you don't. That's got nothing to do with history or memories. It's only got to do with today."

"No, I don't think I agree," she says, shaking her head. "I think a relationship is about so much more than just 'today'. In fact I think it's about so much more than just 'love'. It's also about wanting the same things, and about whether or not you have a future together."

She takes another sip of her whisky. "You know, I just want that boring, domestic family-life," she says, staring at her glass. "I want marriage, I want children, while I still can." She looks up at Cal. "I think Jeffrey wants those things, too."

If Jeffrey could give her a family, she thinks she could love him just for that alone.

Cal wraps an arm around her and she puts her head on his shoulder. "Well, of course all of that's important, too," Cal says. "'s Just, call me a romantic, but I really think to ever truly be happy together, you gotta fall in love, first."

She doesn't say anything back, just sits there silently, breathing in the scent of his cologne. "Then again," he continues, "I've fallen in love, probably a thousand times in my life, and I've never been truly happy with any woman."

She feels the stubbles on his chin softly scratching against her forehead as he turns his head and smiles. "Well, except you and Em, of course," he says. "That's different."

She doesn't know why she suddenly feels a pang of regret in her chest. Like the dull, ingrained ache of an old wound that was there all along, but after a new kick to it feels fresh and raw again.

"Still," he says, as she remains quiet. "I think you're kidding yourself by starting a relationship with somebody you're not in love with. 's Your choice. But I don't think this is gonna make you happy."

"Is it?" she asks. "My choice, I mean?" After eliminating staying alone for the rest of her life as an option, she doesn't think she's really got much of a choice left.

"What do you mean?" Cal asks, rubbing cirkles on her shoulder with his thumb. "I don't know," she whispers. "I'm tired," she says, letting out a yawn.

Cal takes her now empty glass from her hands and sets it on the table along with his own.

He puts his thumb and index finger on her chin and gently turns her head to look up at him. "You do have a choice here, love," he whispers, looking into her eyes. He's close enough she can feel his breath on her face, smelling like the whisky they've been drinking.

"Yeah?" she whispers. "What's that?" He leans into her a little bit more, until his lips are only half an inch away from hers. For a moment she thinks he's going to kiss her, but then he turns his head away and moves his hand off her chin.

He's been all about her giving honest answers all night, but he never does answer her question. She's prone to calling him a hypocrite, but they promised each other no argueing, so she let's it slide by.

Besides, it would probably ruïn the moment, and she's actually not at all uncomfortable lying against him, safely wrapped inside his arms.

She wonders if maybe, if she would have had a choice, she would have wanted him to kiss her just now, and she's startled by the thought.

Later that night, or maybe early in the morning, after she's finally gone home, she lies in bed wide awake, staring into the darkness. She tries to think about Jeffrey, who used to be David, but she can't shake her mind from Cal, who's never been anything but that.

Cal's eyes, staring into hers from only two inches away. Cal's arms, wrapped protectively around her body. Cal's voice, telling her not to be afraid. Cal's lips, coming dangerously close to her own.

She's never allowed herself to wonder about Cal in any sort of romantic way, to think about what might have been if they had met at different times in their life, under different circumstances.

If there hadn't been a Zoey or an Alec, nor a Doyle or a Finch when they met, and if life had allowed them to become more than best friends, before the thought of losing that friendship scared the both of them out of their minds.

But now she couldn't stop thinking about the stinging pain she'd felt when Cal called her 'different' from the women he'd fallen in love with.

Even if she could love him, or does love him, or whatever grammar's accurate; it doesn't matter if he'll never look at her that way.

She pulls her blanket up over her head and tries to fall asleep.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Please review, I love reading your thoughts about the story. Next up, chapter four: Emily has something to say about what's happening...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Finally, chapter four. I'm sorry it took me so long to finish it, life is kind of hectic at the moment. Perhaps that is why this is not my finest work, or perhaps I am just trying to make excuses. Either way, I couldn't put off posting this any longer, so this is as good as it's going to get. I hope you'll enjoy, anyway.**

 **I'd also like to take a moment to thank everybody who's been reviewing, especially those of you who've reviewed every chapter yet, it actually means the world to me and inspires me to keep writing. So thank you so much for that.**

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"Gillian."

She's startled out of her concentration by the sound of her name. She looks up from the files on her computer to see Emily standing in the doorway to her office.

"Emily!" she says with a smile as big as she can manage. "Come on in, how are you?" she asks, getting up from her chair and walking over to her.

"I'm fine," Emily says with a smile, walking up to her and moving in for a hug. "Are you okay?" she asks, after they've let go of each other. "Yeah," she says. "Of course, I'm fine. But what about you? I didn't know you were back in town!" She smiles and puts her hand on the girl's shoulder.

Ever since Emily started college a few months ago and moved to New York, she's been seeing significantly less of the eightteen-year-old girl and missing her more than she expected.

"Yeah, no, I know," Emily says, "my dad didn't know I was coming either, I just got here and surprised him." Gillian smiles. "I bet he was thrilled to see you," she says, "he really misses you!"

"Yeah, I know," Emily says, making a face. "Anyway, what's new with you?" she asks. Gillian bites her lip, she hadn't really expected to have to tell Emily anything about her love life just yet.

"It's a trick question, by the way," Emily says with a mischievous look on her face, "my dad already told me you're back with that David guy, whose name is no longer David," she says.

"Yeah," Gillian says. She manages a smile. "Well, then you already know. He's back, and I'm giving him another chance. There really isn't much else to say about it," she says.

"Well, of course there's more to say than that!" Emily says. She walks over to the couch and makes herself comfortable on it. "Come, sit, talk," she says with a smile, patting the fabric of the couch next to her.

"There really isn't much to tell," Gillian says, sitting down next to Emily. "He showed up at my doorstep two weeks ago, willing to do what it takes to have me back in his life," she says. "So I," she shrugs her shoulders, "I decided to give him another chance."

Emily looks at her, head slightly tilted and a small frown between her eyebrows. "You know, that actually sounds like a very romantic story," she says. "So don't get me wrong when I say, you don't sound too excited when you tell it. Why is that?"

She feels a blush rising up her throath and upto her cheeks. "You know, you and your father share the same curiousity about my love life," she says, nervously pushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Sorry," Emily says with a smile. "I was raised by a man who's made the truth his main quest in life, so you can't fully hold me accountable."

She can't supress a laugh. "Yes, you are your father's daughter," she says. "Look, Gill," Emily says. "I love you, I just want to see you happy. Are you happy?"

She looks at the girl she's known and loved for so long, whom she's watched grow up and turn into the beautiful, wise young woman that's sitting beside her today. She looks at the small, worried frown inbetween her eyebrows and the big, wide, hazel eyes that are locking with her own blue ones.

"Yeah," she says, wrapping an arm around her. "Even more so, now that you're here."

"You know," Emily whispers, laying her head against Gillian's shoulder, "my dad just said the exact same thing, when I asked him that."

Emily get's up to leave her office not long after that, allowing her to get some work done. "Wanna come over for dinner tonight?" she asks her. "I'm sorry," Gillian says, "I'm actually going out with Jeffrey tonight. How about tomorrow?" she asks.

They agree on that and then Emily walks out the door. Gillian get's back to her administration, but quickly stumbles upon a scribbled note in Cal's handwriting that even she can't dicipher. She sighs deeply and get's up to walk over to his office.

She's about to open the door to Cal's office when she hears the familair voice of Emily talking behind it. "I don't get it, dad," she says. "You told me you loved her. That you were _in love with her._ " Her blood runs cold in it's tracks.

"That's a long time ago," she hears Cal say, his voice tired, frustrated but not angry. "Well, has anything changed since then?" Emily asks. "Yeah," says Cal. "She's with _him_ now, haven't you heard?"

She can feel her heart racing in her chest. Are they talking about her? Could that even be possible?

"That's not what I meant," Emily says. "Are you in love with Gillian?" she asks. Silence. For the longest time, nobody says anything. She's afraid to stay and hear the answer to that question, but it's like her feet are nailed to the floor, and she can't bring herself to walk away.

"Yeah," says Cal eventually, the sound echoing in her mind, thudding against her brain like a hammer.

"But it doesn't matter. She's with somebody else now," he says. "She doesn't love him!" Emily says, raising her voice in frustration.

"That's her choice," Cal says. "Yeah, but it's the wrong choice," Emily says, her voice agitated. "And if you told her how you felt about her, she might choose differently!"

"No she wouldn't," Cal says, voice flat and emotionless. "If she wants to be with me, why's she with him then, huh?"

"Maybe she got tired of waiting," Emily says.

She suddenly feels terrible for eavesdropping on a conversation this private, even if she _is_ the subject being discussed. As she quietly walks away from the door, the word 'yeah' is still pounding in her head.

She goes back to her office and stays there for what feels like an eternity. Pacing back and forth the room, sitting down at her desk and running her hands through her hair, turning on her computer and staring at the screen, only to eventually get up and walk around the room again.

She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't even know what to want anymore. Is she supposed to walk away from everything she and Jeffrey are and could become, only to throw herself into Cal's arms, eventhough he never even asked her to?

Is she supposed to forget the things she just heard him say, forget everything they could be together, and live the rest of her life never knowing what might have been?

She stays in her office, wondering and pondering, for the remainder of the afternoon, forgetting all about the work she was supposed to get done that day. It's Cal who eventually startles her out of it.

"You about ready to go home, love?" he asks, suddenly standing in the doorway. "I'm leavin' now, Em's makin' dinner," he says, a smug smile on his face. "Yeah," she says, managing a smile, "you guys have fun."

"Yeah," he says, the sound sending chills down her spine. "Look, Gill," he says, looking down at his shoes, "'s just, you sure you can't come tonight?"

"Cal, you know I'd love to," she says apologetically, "but…"

"Yeah, I know," he cuts her off. "It's fine. Have a good night," he says, before turning around and leaving her office.

"Cal!" she calls after him. She thinks about running after him and yelling at him for being unfair; but she's scared of what an argument right now would turn into, of what she might say and admit to, so she doesn't.

Instead, she takes a deep breath before gathering her things together and walking out her office, out the building and towards her car.

"Gillian," she hears him call her name behind her. She stops, turns around and lets him catch up with her.

"Don't see him tonight," he says, looking her in the eyes. "Don't see him, any night, ever," he says, his voice determined.

"Why not?" she asks, and she decides that this is his shot. This is his chance to speak up and tell her what she already knows.

"You're not in love with him," he says, shrugging his shoulders and never averting his gaze. "I know it and you know it. You're not in love with him. Don't see him tonight."

"Then who am I in love with, Cal?" she asks. "Tell me that, and I won't go," she says, the promise ringing in her ears, the meaning of the words sinking in only after she's said them.

Cal looks away, looks down at the floor, running a hand through his hair and for a moment seeming lost without words. Then he looks up into her eyes again, a daring look on his face. "You tell me," he says.

For seconds that feel like hours they just stand there, each waiting for the other person to break. But neither one of them does.

"I'm late," she whispers, still looking him in the eyes. She turns around and walks away. He doesn't follow her, this time.

She reaches her car and gets in, slamming the cardoor shut behind her with a loud bang. She grabs on to the steering wheel tight enough for her knuckles to turn white and bites her lip to keep the tears from falling. What kind of game is he trying to play? Doesn't he understand that nobody is going to win at it?

Pulling her closer one moment, only to push her away the next -never truly holding onto her, never really letting her go. Unwilling to commit to a real relationship, -unable to let go of the woman he loves; especially if that means handing her off to another man -a man who _is_ willing to commit and stay and make sacrifices and do everything he will not.

She takes several deep breaths before letting go of the steering wheel to wipe the tears from her eyes. Behind her, she hears Cal's car drive off with reckless speed. She stays in the parkinglot for minutes that feel like hours and waits for him to come back.

She waits and hopes and prays for him to change his mind and decide that she's worth _more_ than his pride and ego and fear and restlessness and whatever else is holding him back. She waits for him to turn the car around and drive back to her, running to her car and jerking the door open. "Me," he'd say. "You're in love with me. Choose me."

After an eternity of waiting in silence, she grabs her keys and starts the car, taking one quick look in the rearview-mirror before driving away. She looks awful, but decides it's too late to fix her appearance. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are puffy and bloodshot. She hasn't had a good night's sleep in days -weeks, even.

Perhaps she will sleep better tonight, now that she has finally made a decision about Jeffrey. Tonight she won't have to worry about anything anymore, she won't have to torture herself with impossible choices. Her mind is finally made up.

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 **Ever so sorry about the cliffhanger, I couldn't help myself. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave me a review, for I'd love to know your thoughts -especially this chapter, because for the first time since I started writing this story, I am posting this chapter without having written anything yet for the next chapter.** **I have a vague concept of what is going to happen next, but nothing concrete yet.** **I need inspiration and your reviews really do provide it, so please take a moment and leave me one. Thanks in advance!**


	5. Chapter 5

**At last, at last, here it is. The final chapter of I choose you. I know I've made you wait long enough for it, but I really hope it'll be worth it. I'm actually quite happy with this chapter, which almost never happens. Have to warn you though, the ending is so sweet it might hurt your teeth. But I thought it was warranted, since this story has already had more than it's fair share of angst and drama. So I hope you all enjoy!**

 **I also want to thank all of you for taking the time to read this story, and especially those of you who have been reviewing! Thank you so, so much for that, it means so much to know your thoughts on the story and really inspires me to write. And I have to give an extra special thanks to The Bloody Red Queen Of Angst, who always sends in such amazing, beautifully detailed reviews. Thank you so much, your reviews really are an inspiration to me.**

 **I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter and please leave me a review!**

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Before her sits a broken man. Head in his hands and the weight of the world on his shoulders. Nothing but a shell is left of the man she found waiting for her. She broke him, easily and ruthlessly, and without hesitation.

"It wouldn't be fair to you," she says. "No, Gill," Jeffrey says, still not looking up at her. "This isn't fair to me. None of this is fair."

"No, it's not," she agrees. Every single event in the past two years hasn't been fair. David leaving, just as she'd fallen in love with him, wasn't fair. Him coming back as Jeffrey, too little too late, wasn't fair. Her giving him another chance, eventhough she didn't really love him anymore, wasn't fair. Cal who loves her, but doesn't want to admit it, isn't fair.

This? Cutting Jeffrey loose now, allowing them both to go and find real love with someone else -it's the closest thing to 'fair' that's happened in a long time. But she doesn't say any of that.

"I'm sorry," she says instead. "Don't be," Jeffrey says, finally lifting his head up to look at her. "I just…" He shakes his head. "I just don't want to be here right now," he says, standing up from his seat. He pulls out his wallet and leaves a twenty dollar bill on the table, to pay for their drinks; true gentleman that he is and always will be -with or without a broken heart.

He walks away from her without saying goodbye, leaving her all alone in the crowded restaurant. She turns around and watches him leave, walking out the building. The sound of the door closing behind him is louder than anything she's ever heard before.

She doesn't know how much longer she stays seated at the table set for two, listening to all the talking and laughter around her, feeling lonelier than ever. Eventually a waiter walks up to her, asking if she's ready to order yet. She mutters an apology before leaving quickly and quietly.

She's not going home. She knows it as soon as she's out of the restaurant. She's come too far and lost too much to go home empty handed now. She drives the familiar streets until she reaches the house she knows so well, it has at times felt more like a home than her own house; the people living there feeling more like loved ones than her own family.

She wonders briefly if the throbbing, bleeding heart on her sleeve will destroy all that. Because, not to be dramatic, but those two people inside that house are everything she has left. She pulls up to the driveway and get's out of the car before walking to the frontdoor.

All-in. Cards on the table. She rings the doorbell.

Of course it's not him who comes to the door. Of course it's not him, but the smaller, cheerier and more feminine version of him who opens the door wide.

"Gill?" Emily's big, surprised eyes stare up at her. "You're here! What are you doing here? Weren't you on a date? Is everything okay?" The girl spits out question after question, not waiting for any answers. "Em," she stops her. "Can I come in?"

Emily stops her rambling abruptly and steps aside, making room for her to pass through the door. "Sure," she says, a look of ravenous curiousity still on her face, the girl knows enough not to press the older woman for information.

"Can I just have a few minutes alone with your dad?" Gillian asks. A wide, smug smile appears on Emily's face, making her look exactly like her father. "Sure," she says again. "I will just be upstairs."

Her hands are shaking and her breathing is shallow as she walks through the hallway and opens the door to the livingroom. She's never noticed before how much it shrieks as it swings open.

"Em? Who was that?" Cal's standing in the kitchen, cutting vegetables on the counter, his back towards her. She clears her throat. "Cal?" she whispers, not sure what her next words are going to be.

At the sound of her voice Cal immediately turns around to face her, dropping his knife on the floor in the process. He stares bewildered at her, for once left without words. He frowns his eyebrows and bites his lip before grabbing a towel to clean off his hands and walking up to her. "Well c'm on in then," he says, "don't just stand there."

Five minutes later they're both sitting at the kitchen table, drinking too strong coffee out of polka-dotted mugs. "I'm sorry," he says, slightly gritting his teeth as he's saying the words. "Y'know, for fighting with you."

"Yeah," she says, "me too." She takes a sip of her coffee. "Is that all you're sorry for Cal?" she asks. For several minutes they just stare at each other, neither one of them moving a mustle or making a sound.

"Y'know what Gill, you're the one who showed up here," he says eventually. "If this is gonna turn into some sort of soul-cleansing redemption, I suggest it be yours."

Fine then, if he wants a redemption, he can get one. "I left Jeffrey," she says. "You were right. I'm not in love with him."

He carefully studies her face with knitted brows. "You okay?" he asks. "Yeah," she says honestly. "Actually, I think I'm more okay than I've been in a long time."

"Good," he says, still staring at her intently, looking for possible hidden emotions on her face. "That's good," he says, when he can't find any.

But she's not done yet.

"You're the one who told me we always have a choice," she says. "Well, I've made mine." Her heart beats fast in her chest, pumping oxigen through her body at rapid speed. "Now it's your turn."

He's staring at her from the other side of the table, an amused smile forming around the corners of his lips, but not quite reaching his eyes. "What'd ya choose then?" he whispers.

"Isn't that obvious?" she says, her heart thudding louder and louder, her fingers growing cold and white. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Cal still stares at her, a smile still dancing on his lips because he _just_ can't help himself, but his eyes seeming dark, tired of this game they've been playing for as long as he can remember. "Why are you here, Gillian?" he whispers, his voice strained and thick with emotion.

They've made up their own language throughout the years, a silent language, made up out of gestures and facial features, expressions and reactions; a language of reading minds and bodies alike. They've been speaking their silent language for so long now, they've forgotten how to communicate in plain English, with actual words and syllables.

"I love you," she says, because if one of them doesn't start talking now, she fears they might never be able to again. It's not a romantic confession, it's more of a rushed, forced blurt out; quick and sudden, like ripping off a bandaid. Now the wound is exposed and vulnerable.

Cal stares at her for what feels like forever, saying nothing. And for once, she doesn't know how to read all of the emotions on his face. All she really notices is that the dark clouds in his eyes have suddenly lifted.

"Well aren't you going to say something?" she asks, feeling braver than ever, now that she has nothing left to lose. "Aren't you going to tell me you love me too?" Nothing left to lose, no, but she's got everything to gain.

"Why would I?" he whispers, his voice smaller and softer than she's ever heard it before. "Y'know I do," he says.

She didn't know she'd been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders until she feels it lifted off of her. "People need to hear the words, Cal," she whispers. " _I_ need to hear the words."

He still stares at her, his eyes bewildered, surprised, confused. But above all, _light._

"I love you," he says then. "Love you more than you'll ever know," he says, reaching over the table and grabbing her hands, holding them tightly. "Y're the sun, Gill," he says, "the light of my life. I only ever want you t'be happy, t'feel loved. I'm sorry I never told you."

He looks down at their hands and squeezes them tight. "Guess that's my redemption," he says, grinning widely.

He let's go of her hands and brings his own up to her shoulders, pulling her closer until they're both leaning so far over the table that their noses almost touch each other and she can feel his warm breath on her face.

With their arms wrapped around each other but a table in between their bodies, they must look like a pair of the most awkward lovers ever known to mankind, but she's never felt more euphorious.

"Promise I'll do better, love," he whispers. "Try to, anyway," he says, a mischievous smile washing over his face. She can't suppress a smile herself, nor does she want to.

She doesn't have to lean in much further to kiss him, and when she does it feels like the world stops spinning around them. It feels like fireworks in the sky and like soft, fresh rain coming down on your skin, all at the same time.

Not just like _watching_ the fireworks from the ground, or _feeling_ the rain on her skin, no. It feels like she _is_ the fireworks, shooting up to the heavens at amazing velocity, bursting apart into thousands of golden, shiny slivers of fire. It feels like she _is_ the rain, falling down from the clouds high above, being pulled down by gravity at unimaginable speed, crashing down to earth and eventually colliding with soft, warm skin.

She feels grand and small and wonderful all at once -and she feels loved.

When they break apart it's only because they both need to come up for air. "Now that," Cal says, a smile lighting up his face again, "I could get used to." She smiles too, pulling herself loose from his embrace and sitting back in her chair. Unwilling to let go of his touch completely, she still holds his hand over the table.

"What now?" she asks, softly biting her bottomlip. "I mean, what is this, us, going to be?"

Cal stares at her, his eyebrows raised and a smug smile dancing around his lips. "Well y'r the one who just confessed th'r love to me, sweetheart," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Y'd think y'd have some idea of all that."

She shrugs her shoulders and smiles again. "I guess I didn't really think it through past the kiss," she admits. Cal smiles his teeth bare. "Well, y'did nail that bit," he says.

She grins widely before sticking out her tongue at him. "I am serious, you know," she says. "I know, love," he says, squeezing her hand. "Why don't we just wait and see how this's gonna work out?" he asks. "Make up the rules as we go along, yeah?"

She smiles and nods. "Yeah," she says. "Seems like a good idea."

"Good," he says. "Now for tonight, I'd love to have ya for dinner, here with me and Em, if that's a romantic enough first date for ya," he says with a smug grin on his face. She smiles widely. "I'd love nothing more," she says.

"Are we gonna tell her?" Cal asks. "Who, Emily?" Gillian asks. He nods. She just smiles. "I think she knows," she says. "Yeah," Cal says laughing, "pretty sure y'r right. Adorable little pain in the ass, that one."

"Yes, I really don't know what's so appealing about that quality, but it's that exact combination that makes me love you both," she says. A smug grin appears again on his face. "So y'think I'm adorable, yeah?" he says.

She makes a face. "I think I'm going to go get Emily," she says, getting up and letting go of Cal's hand. "She's been waiting long enough."

She walks through the door and into the hallway, unable to keep the smile off of her face. Never has a conversation with a man she just confessed her love to felt so normal before, joking, laughing and talking just like they always have, like there never was a time where they weren't openly in love with each other.

"Em, come on down for dinner!" she calls, like the girl upstairs is hers to call down for dinner, and like this household is hers to meddle in. Emily is almost immediately down the stairs, staring at her with big, wide eyes, bursting with curiosity. "Shall we go and finish up dinner together?" Gillian asks.

"Come on Gill!" Emily yells, her nosy self getting the best of her. "Tell me what happened with you and my dad!"

Gillian smiles. "Well, I'm here, choosing to eat the cooking of you and your dad, instead of letting my date pay for sushi at a japanese restaurant," she says, "so what do you think happened?"

Emily squeals happily and throws herself at the older woman, hugging her enthusiastically. Gillian, surprised but delighted, wraps her arms around the girl and holds her tightly.

"I love you, Gill," Emily whispers. Gillian drops a kiss on the top of her head. "I love you too, sweetheart," she says.

She doesn't notice Call walking into the hallway until he's standing behind them, wrapping his arms around the both of them. No time or place have ever felt more _right_ than here and now.

She carefully moves her hand behind Emily's back and pinches her own arm, just to see if it'll wake her up, and if this has all been nothing but a wonderful daydream. But they're both still there, holding her tight and close enough that she can smell a mixture of Call's cologne and Emily's vanilla shampoo.

She's wide awake.

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 **Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed! I'm not entirely sure if I can say goodbye to this story just yet, so I might be writing a short epilogue soon, I don't know yet. But let me know if there's something you guys would like to read in a possible epilogue, it might provide me the inspiration to write it!**


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